


when i’m with you

by beanpod



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Admittedly there's not a lot of porn, Getting Together, M/M, Porn with Feelings, sort of fwb if you squint and then take off your glasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanpod/pseuds/beanpod
Summary: It’s inevitable, Hyunwoo thinks—and he likes that word for them: inevitable. It’s Hoseok the one to put feelings into words and turn words into song most of the time so Hyunwoo feels a special kind of pride of this one, because he doesn’t think there’ll ever be a better word for them.
Relationships: Lee Hoseok | Wonho/Son Hyunwoo | Shownu
Comments: 6
Kudos: 92





	when i’m with you

It’s kissing, just kissing.

First they kiss, they kiss chastely, it’s just to try it out, just because they’re bored in the studio one afternoon and Hoseok says, “Hey, I wanna try something,” and Hyunwoo lets him. It’s a tiny kiss, barely a peck, and yet Hyunwoo feels it down the deepest corner of his fucking soul.

He’s fucked from the go. He knows. He _knows_.

Hoseok pulls back with a tiny frown and Hyunwoo clutches at his sleeves and thinks, _Do it again_.

Hoseok isn’t a mind reader but he’s braver than Hyunwoo is and he leans again and this time it isn’t as chaste, nor short—it lasts a handful of seconds, maybe two handfuls even, and Hoseok parts his lips against his and it’s like Hyunwoo can taste the anticipation simmering between them.

Making out on the floor of a badly airconditioned studio isn’t that comfortable. They’re still sitting mostly side by side, for a start, and Hyunwoo’s neck’s already sore from practice and the gym and probably the weight of responsibility as well. It’s pretty awkward because as much as they’re trying to keep it mild and exploratory, Hyunwoo would very much like to pull him closer, and by the way Hoseok’s clutching at the front of his t-shirt, he might not be the only one.

Fuck, but it’s just kissing, right?

They stop when one of their phones vibrates somewhere in their pockets. Hyunwoo has half a mind to grab the thing and hurl it across the room, but Hoseok’s faster, gets a hold of his still vibrating phone, and his face sort of blanches as he looks at the screen, so Hyunwoo pulls back, sits back on the hard floor and curls his palms under his thighs so he won’t reach back.

Hoseok says, “We gotta go, car’s outside. God, I’m hungry, think they’ll let us stop for fries somewhere?”

Hyunwoo huffs, still breathless from the endless kissing, Hoseok’s mouth on his. Because it is a thing that just happened. “Doubt it. There’s noodles at home, though. Maybe?”

Hoseok laughs and gets to his feet, so fluid, so goddamn elegant, like nothing has ruffled him, whereas Hyunwoo sits there feeling like his soul’s been sucked out of his body through his tongue. He holds up a hand for Hyunwoo, who takes it, and pulls him to his feet.

“Home it is, then,” Hoseok says, and Hyunwoo follows him without another word to the parking lot.

It’s kissing, it’s just kissing.

They do it often—when they’re backstage and hid from view, when they’re in the practice room and everyone else is gone, when they’re back at their place and bored out of their minds and stressed to the point of pain, which turns out to be more often than not, all things considered.

They kiss and kiss—for hours, sometimes—and Hyunwoo’s intimately aware of the feel and shape and taste of Hoseok’s mouth. The sounds he makes when Hyunwoo tugs on his lower lip with teeth, too. The tiny, hitched gasp at the first touch of their tongues. It’s crazy. It’s fucking _crazy_. Hyunwoo’s addicted to it and he can’t even muster the energy to deny it.

They’re sweaty and tired and buzzed from all the cheering and blinding lights once, still thrumming with energy even if they’ve been off the stage for a good ten minutes. The guys are loading up on water and food and touching up their make-up before someone shoves a camera right back in their faces and no one notices when they slip out.

Hoseok’s quick and smooth, takes Hyunwoo’s hand in his to lead him down a corridor. He doesn’t even have to look twice at Hoseok’s soft quirk of lips ( _god_ , those lips) or heady gaze to understand what is about to happen.

They don’t even hesitate.

They find an unused storage room, Hoseok’s hands gentle yet insistent while pushing Hyunwoo to lean against the edge of one of the worn-out tables and pressing close, impossibly close, close enough for Hyunwoo to have the alarming and worrying urge to hold on and never let go if it means Hoseok’s mouth will remain on his like this, wet and insistent.

It happens, the grinding. Sometimes. Most times.

They’ve never done anything about it, though. It’s a line Hyunwoo holds himself at least three feet away from at all times. Hyunwoo feels it on his shoulders every time he so much as _looks_ at Hoseok, ever present, like a damn vice around his throat.

Hoseok pulls back from the kiss—god, he’s pretty when he’s flushed, lips red and hair a mess—and holds Hyunwoo’s gaze, impossibly heavy, his hands at the back of Hyunwoo’s neck like they were made for it. He presses in closer between Hyunwoo’s half spread legs and, ever so lightly, grinds in. His lips are still parted and his eyes are blown to shit and he shouldn’t look so beautiful, no. Hyunwoo curls both hands over Hoseok’s lower back, holds him close, pulls him closer.

 _They_ _don’t even hesitate_.

Hoseok’s lips curve a little at the corners and Hyunwoo huffs a laugh through his nose—he doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s supposed to be laughing at, but Hoseok follows along and he leans for another kiss, longer, deeper—

And that’s it—that’s all it takes for the world to tip off its axis, for Hoseok to push in close, closer until their mouths are sore and red and slick, desperate for each other, and their hands don’t know where to start but definitely where to end up.

So it’s kissing, just kissing, until it’s not.

Sharing rooms when they’re abroad becomes somewhat of an unspoken rule.

Minhyuk mentions the club in the hotel’s roof, says they should go. Hyunwoo thinks he begs out of it, claiming tiredness and old bones. As far as excuses go, it’s not the worst Hyunwoo’s ever used. Hoseok’s loud laughter and Changkyun’s “He’s too old to be hanging out with the youths,” had been uncalled for, though.

He doesn’t remember them leaving, but god he _hopes_ they did by the time he pulled Hoseok into his lap and kissed him hard enough to sting. Because all through the night, there’d been this: steady warmth at his side and soft skin and fingers that weren’t supposed to linger a certain way.

And then, when they’d been alone: Hoseok’s mouth on his neck and his hands down his pants. Hyunwoo’s fingers in Hoseok’s ass and his mouth on his dick till he downright sobbed.

This whole thing, fooling around with Hoseok? An entire _experience_. Kissing was great, but fucking is immensely better. Bit tricky to manage considering there’s other five people they live with and cameras have been and will continue to be pushed in their faces without notice, but there are perks to being the leader. And the oldest. Hyunwoo’s not above using those privileges, as it turns out.

He closes his eyes against the faint light streaming in through the windows. Hoseok’s snoring right next to him, his arms shoved under a pillow, cheek wrinkled against the white cotton of the pillowcase, lips parted and chapped.

Now, now Hyunwoo remembers everything much more clearly, the haze of sleep gone: Hoseok straddling his lap and rocking his hips in tight little circles, Hoseok slipping a hand under Hyunwoo’s shirt, mouth pressed to his ear as he whispered, “I want you.” And Hyunwoo had wanted, too, because there isn’t a state of mind, he’s come to learn, where he doesn’t _want_ Hoseok, all of him, in any capacity he can have him.

Hoseok slurs, “Time’s it,” and Hyunwoo watches as he rolls onto his back, chest pale save for the disarray of hickeys starting on his collarbone and leading down and—and holy fuck, because Hyunwoo did that with his mouth and he remembers, god does he remember.

Again, an entire _experience_.

It looks quite artistic, actually, the way Hoseok is leaning against the pillows right now, eyes still closed, hair tussled and lips parted. Hyunwoo’s fingers itch for his phone; he’d like to capture this. He also has to remind himself now it’s not the time; they’ve got a plane to catch later. “Early still. Five, maybe.”

“Is your phone on? We gotta set an alarm; when’s the plane leave?” Hoseok mumbles, already asleep again most likely, so Hyunwoo doesn’t bother with a reply and reaches for his phone somewhere on the nightstand.

There’s a text from one of the managers to remind them all to be up by seven, in the lobby at seven-fifteen, tops. Hyunwoo’d been right, it’s a bit past five already, and besides the one text, there aren’t any messages from the guys. He hopes they’re all alive and well and in their respective rooms—Hongsik’s already threatened to quit twice this week. He sets an alarm for six-forty, just in case he dozes off.

Hoseok sits up groggily, propped up on his elbows as he looks around sleepily.

There’s a moment there, where Hyunwoo turns his gaze towards Hoseok and watches his face, still lax with sleep, his eyes gone and unfocused, where Hyunwoo can see it, Hoseok regaining enough consciousness as he looks down at himself and finds the bruises on his chest and down the side of his stomach.

Eyes wide, he mutters, “Wait—what the fuck, did you _attack_ me?”

Hyunwoo snorts before his mouth has time to catch up with his brain, “With my mouth, maybe.”

“Way too early for sarcasm,” Hoseok retorts around a yawn, and sits up gingerly, wincing. “Shit, everything hurts.”

 _That’s what you get from frankly Olympic sex_ , Hyunwoo wants to say, but decides against it to settle back against the pillows, wincing when Hoseok stretches and almost elbows Hyunwoo in the ear. He huffs around another yawn and flops back down against the pillows, jostling Hyunwoo’s shoulder as he does so. “What time is it?”

“Five-ten,” Hyunwoo says, and feels around for the comforter, tugging it up and rolling onto his side, facing Hoseok. “I put the alarm. We can get some more sleep.”

Hoseok tilts his face and watches him with a raised eyebrow. He wiggles around a bit—it makes the bed creak and Hyunwoo’s brain does this thing where it goes straight into the gutter because he remembers the bed creaking for entirely different reasons and it makes him half hard and fuck, can’t his dick be chill for a sec.

“Give up the covers, my ass is freezing, too, you know.”

“My bed, my rules,” Hyunwoo says, but lets up a corner of the comforter anyway, closing his eyes when Hoseok actually cuddles closer, their arms touching under the blankets.

After a minute or so of lying still—Hyunwoo tries so hard, damn it—Hoseok wiggles some more until he’s lying on his side, too, and they’re so close, so close, Hoseok’s hair tickles Hyunwoo’s forehead. “Had fun last night, huh,” Hoseok asks, a smile on his mouth.

Hyunwoo raises an eyebrow, holding Hoseok’s gaze when Hoseok looks at him. “You asking me like you weren’t there. The audacity.”

Hoseok huffs a laugh through his nose, “The hickeys will be a bitch to cover. Thanks for that, by way.”

“Anytime,” Hyunwoo returns with a huff of his own. He sighs, shaking his head and trying real hard not to grin. “You’re not gonna let me go back to sleep, are you.”

“Nope,” Hoseok says, stretching the last bit of the word so his lips smack together and Hyunwoo—Hyunwoo’s only human.

“It’ll be payback, won’t it,” he asks, and Hoseok grins, whispers, “Is it payback if you enjoy it, too, though,” and closes the space between them.

Hyunwoo can’t even bring himself to care about how awful their morning breath should be.

They kiss, they kiss and kiss until Hoseok tastes less stale and more like Hoseok, until Hyunwoo tastes himself there, quiet and soft around the tip of Hoseok’s tongue, until Hoseok’s biting at his lips and only pulling away to breathe “Fuck, come here,” into his mouth as he pulls on Hyunwoo’s sides and makes him roll on top, his thighs warm around Hyunwoo’s hips.

Hyunwoo bunches his hands on the sheets under Hoseok, suddenly aware of how _much_ he wants to touch Hoseok, all of him, fingers tight around them as Hoseok lifts his hips and their cocks grind together, separated only by the fabric of Hyunwoo’s underwear. They moan at the friction, and Hyunwoo’s hands find themselves curling over Hoseok’s wrists to pin them down to the bed above his head. There’s no rhythm at all, Hoseok moves against him as they kiss, and it’s not hurried or desperate anymore—the change in position provides the perfect amount of leverage for him to rock against Hoseok, slow and tortuous and like they could spend hours doing just this.

There’s a thought.

“Take them off,” Hoseok pants at some point, biting at Hyunwoo’s lips as he tries to shove at Hyunwoo’s boxers with his knees. God, but he’s _impossible_.

It’s probably a lot hotter than it should be, Hoseok trying to get Hyunwoo out of his pants with half-hearted rolls of his legs, but it sets fire on Hyunwoo’s hands where they tighten around Hoseok’s wrists, and fuck, Hoseok is arching into him, his neck a long, bare line of skin that he wants to lick and bite all over.

It strikes Hyunwoo like a slap across the face, how desperate Hoseok becomes for this.

“Come on,” Hoseok pants again as Hyunwoo licks at the ridge of his collarbone, trying to tug his wrists free. “Fuck, take them off—come on.”

“Are you—” but Hyunwoo is cut off abruptly, the _are you sure_ making its way back from the tip of his tongue, and Hoseok is right there, moaning low and quiet into his mouth as he hooks a leg behind one of Hyunwoo’s knees—fuck, he’s so distracting, what with him sucking on Hyunwoo’s tongue, so it’s really a surprise when the bed dips and Hyunwoo goes rolling to the side, Hoseok on top of him.

“I’m sure,” Hoseok whispers, a quiet thing that gets lost in Hyunwoo’s mouth. “Are you?” he asks, the words tucked in between their lips, and Hyunwoo nods.

Hoseok pulls away a few inches, his eyes dark and intense peering down at Hyunwoo and pinning him to the bed, and Hyunwoo has literally no time to think _I did that, I put that flush on Hoseok’s cheeks, I made his dick hard, I did that_ , because as he starts to even conceive the thought of Hoseok flushed and on top of him, Hoseok’s moving down, kissing the dip of his collarbones and then even lower still until his lips drag over the hard line of his cock through his underwear.

He holds Hyunwoo’s gaze the whole time, even as he slides the elastic down Hyunwoo’s thighs and takes the head into the wet heat of his mouth, blows Hyunwoo like his life’s been depending on it all night.

Later—after Hyunwoo’s knees give out and his body just sort of collapses on top of Hoseok’s, his nose buried in the skin of Hoseok’s back; after Hoseok moves and writhes until they’re both panting at the ceiling with matching lazy smiles on their faces; after Hoseok declares first shower but offers to share half of whatever they’ve got for breakfast—they sit side by side at hotel’s lobby while management gets their shit sorted, everyone—safely—sort of still asleep around them.

Hyunwoo doesn’t think much of it, refuses to acknowledge the way Hoseok sometimes runs his fingertips over the creases of his t-shirt right above the line of bruises Hyunwoo left the night before. He refuses to overanalyze this, refuses to put it at the front of his mind and try and work out what it means. Things are looking pretty okay from his seat and he isn’t really in the mood to fuck it up.

It gets weird, though, because things like these just do.

“Isn’t it weird?” Hoseok asks around a mouthful of pillowcase, his cheeks rosy from exertion and his fringe sticking to his forehead with sweat.

Hyunwoo is just coming down from his own orgasm so it’s not like he can make heads or tails of Hoseok’s question, to which he replies with a tired and spent, “What is?” while he rolls his neck to the side and tries to get a glimpse of the clock.

It’s all in the timing, they’ve learned. Everyone’s out for some reason tonight and only Minhyuk’s expected to be back early enough, in about thirty minutes if his texts are to be believed. They gotta be careful about it, and although they haven’t discussed it yet, the others finding out is too great a risk for everyone. Hyunwoo admittedly hates having to sneak around, but it is what it is.

“Us,” Hoseok says with a tiny frown and a vague wave of his hand between them. “You and me, I mean.”

They haven’t discussed this, either. This, them, whatever’s happening—it’s been happening for months now but in between it actually happening and work, there’s not enough time to address it. And by god he knows it sounds like a lazy excuse, but it’s the truth.

Hyunwoo scratches a hand lazily over his stomach.

“Isn’t this a clothes-on kinda conversation?” he asks carefully.

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Okay, put on your pants if it’s gonna keep you from freaking out.”

“I am not freaking out,” Hyunwoo protests weakly. “I’m just saying.”

Hoseok rolls onto his side, arm under his head, and fixes him with a look Hyunwoo can’t quite decipher. He gets like this sometimes, looks at Hyunwoo like he’s trying to dissect his every expression, like he can look into his thoughts. Sometimes, when they’re all messing around with lyrics and chords, Hoseok gets that same expression while whoever’s pitching their idea speaks. He gets intent, gets this little crease in his brow like he’s trying to feel whatever the other person’s feeling.

After some silent staring, he says, “I think this thing between us works out great because we both know what he want.”

Hyunwoo licks his lips, unconsciously maybe. “What do we want, then.”

Hoseok’s lips twitch in return, barely a smile and more of a smirk. “Each other.”

So it turns out it’s not a clothes-on conversation and it’s not that hard to put into words. Hyunwoo shakes his head, smiling sideways. “Simple as that, huh.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok huffs, and kicks a foot free of the covers right into Hyunwoo’s knee. “Get dressed, Minhyuk’ll be here any minute,” he says as Hyunwoo does his best to clutch at his knee. “Watch yourself and I might kiss it better later.”

Hyunwoo’s totally looking forward to that one.

It’s simple, Hyunwoo thinks, because they’re friends, because they know each other, and like Hoseok’d said, they both know what they want.

It’s just so… so _easy_. Hoseok’s easy to talk to, he’s easy to be at ease with. Hyunwoo admits he’s learned to be comfortable with all the guys but letting his guard down with Hoseok’s always been sort of a visceral reaction, happens without him really being conscious of it, even without the kissing, the fucking. 

He tells Hoseok this once, it’s pretty late into the night, or probably way to early into the morning, and they’ve been in Hoseok’s room trying to finish a song. He’s on Hoseok’s bed with one of his pillows under his chin, and he says, “I like it with you,” but it comes off weird and Hoseok raises an eyebrow at him across the room so Hyunwoo amends, “I like _this_ with you, I like what we’ve got going on.”

And Hyunwoo can’t help it, the way his heart beats double time, or the way his flush seems to escalate at top speed towards his face. He can’t help it, couldn’t have, because Hoseok looks at him like that—like this: soft around the edges and warm and fond, which is exactly what Hyunwoo feels and, _fuck_ , and Hyunwoo _was_ fucked from the go.

It’s inevitable, Hyunwoo thinks—and he likes that word for them: inevitable. It’s Hoseok the one to put feelings into words and turn words into song most of the time so Hyunwoo feels a special kind of pride of this one, because he doesn’t think there’ll ever be a better word for them.

Hoseok rests his elbow on the desk and leans his chin on his palm. He smiles sideways, “You getting soft on me, Hyunwoo?”

“I think I’m always gonna be a bit soft when it comes to you,” Hyunwoo answers, perhaps a bit too honestly, but isn’t that what this is all about?

Hoseok’s lips twitch and he stands up slowly, and when he comes to sit next to Hyunwoo, he reaches for his hand. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, you know.”

“What,” Hyunwoo huffs, squeezing Hoseok’s fingers, “I always say nice things to you.”

“Yes, but this is the _nicest_ ,” Hoseok grins, slowly rolling on top, almost like he’s giving Hyunwoo time to figure out if he really wants this, and Hyunwoo answers by curling both arms snuggly around Hoseok’s waist, his weight warm and comfortable above him. “You know, I’m always gonna be a bit soft for you, too.”

Hyunwoo smiles. “We’re pretty good at this, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Hoseok agrees readily, and leans down to kiss him. It’s soft and unhurried and it makes Hyunwoo’s chest feel like it’s too full and too empty at the same time, if there’s ever such a thing. Hoseok tucks his hands under Hyunwoo’s neck and they kiss and kiss like there’s nothing outside the bed, outside the room, all of it pushed back and forgotten for the time being.

Which is why when Kihyun yelps, “OH GOD, MY EYES,” they both startle so hard Hoseok headbutts him and Hyunwoo almost pushes him off the bed.

“Jesus Christ, Kihyun, we should put a fucking bell on you,” Hoseok gripes as he rolls dejectedly to the side.

Hyunwoo adds, “No one in this band knows how to knock, I swear to god,” while rubbing his forehead.

“I nap on that bed,” Kihyun protests, wrinkling his nose in their direction and retreating back into the hall. “I can’t believe you two. Minhyuk! _MINHYUK!_ You owe me fifty fucking dollars, I told you they were sucking face in there. God, my _eyes_.”

Hoseok huffs and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He’s smiling so Hyunwoo nudges him a little and then leaves their shoulders touching.

“That went well,” Hyunwoo says with a sigh. “Should I be worried about the betting, though.”

“Nah,” Hoseok grins, and tangles their fingers together, “we’ll worry about that later.”

Later, then.

**Author's Note:**

> bold of you to assume my endings would get better in 2020.
> 
> title after ruelle's 'earth glow' which [clutches heart] describes my otps so well, fuck it. ~~yes i listen to a lot of ruelle so what.~~


End file.
